The Vigil
by sapienlover
Summary: Josiah thinks about Vin and Chris and the bond of brotherhood and family.


You can rest easy, now, Vin.

He ain't dyin'. He's still pretty damn' sick – but he ain't dyin'.

"You don't have ta stay, Josiah … " you said to me at the beginnin', although I could tell you could use the company.

So I stayed. And I've been sittin' here the longest time, watchin' you watchin' Chris, willing the man to heal, hopin' against hope that this damn' pneumonia ain't goin' to take our friend from us.

Stupidest thing I ever saw, Vin – Chris Larabee, a man I always reckoned would meet his Maker carryin' a bullet, laid flat on his ass by somethin' as simple as gettin' soaked in a ten-minute downpour.

Truly stupid.

Mind you, it didn't help that he'd spent the rest of the night in a bottle of whisky, put there by the fact we'd had to bury a family – Ma, Pa, and two little ones, caught in a flash flood - turnin' into the Chris Larabee only Buck knows well, the same Chris Larabee that gave Buck a split lip a minute later when he tried his damnedest to get Chris to go change his wet clothes. Chris didn't even say anythin'. He just hit him. When Buck backed off, JD lookin' all wide-eyed because Chris hit Buck for what amounted to no reason at all, I saw the hopelessness in Chris' eyes, eyes that were flat and hard with self-hatred. A man in purgatory, if ever I saw one. Chris didn't need to die that night. He was already in that terrible place, and had been for three years, God help him.

"Now hold on there, Chris," I'd said, "Ease on up a minute – Buck's just worried about you - "

Next thing I know there's a gun pointed at me. Right here, at my chest. Rock steady too, despite the whisky.

"Just back off, Preacher Man!" I could hardly hear him, his voice was that low – nothin' but a whisper really. But I knew he'd kill me, then and there, if I pushed it. Don't know how I knew; I just did. I could see Ezra out of the corner of my eye, that famous poker face just tense with shock. Takes a lot to shock Ezra, but watchin' Chris just – and only just – hold back from shootin' holes in me took the wind right out of him.

But just then I saw the saloon doors swing open, and there you were, rain still drippin' from that old coat you like to wear, and I'm pretty sure I could smell that damn' coat from where I was standin' – Ez _does_ have a point about it, son ….

Those cornflower-blue eyes of yours looked at Chris, then looked at me, and you never turned a hair. In you walked then, and came to stand beside a dumb ol' preacher man who'd opened his big mouth once too often, and you looked Chris square in those lifeless eyes … and smiled.

"You gonna shoot me too, cowboy?"

That was it.

That's all you said, and for a long moment I sincerely thought Larabee hadn't heard you. Seemed a lifetime until he eased the hammer back down on his Peacemaker, and I let my breath back out, not realising until then how close I'd come to losing everything.

"Vin?" For the first time I saw something in Chris' eyes other than pain. Sadness. A sadness that was eatin' the man whole, eatin' him from the inside out like some kind of foul parasite.

Chris had seemed kinda worn out then, and you caught him as he fell, your scrawny little frame hoisting Larabee over a shoulder and carrying his sorry ass to bed, Bucklin followin' on behind as though the punch that bloodied him had never happened.

Wasn't until mornin' that we realised he was sick. Larabee was _really_ sick, and Nathan told us he'd got a bad dose of pneumonia.

And there was Buck, carryin' Chris like a frail child wrapped in a blanket, the man shiverin' and coughin' his insides up, headin' across the street to Nathan's clinic, and you, Vin Tanner, trailin' behind like a lost calf.

There was Nathan and Buck, fussin' around like a couple of ol' Momma hens, cleaning him up and keepin' him safe and warm. JD just kind of hovered, somethin' the kid does to perfection, worryin' enough for the whole six of us. Ezra? Well, Ez just watched from the doorway, those green eyes takin' it all in, lookin' for all the world as though he was takin' bets with the Devil as to who was gonna win the race for Chris' soul. But I just knew Ezra had no intention of losin' that particular bet – Larabee would stay with his brothers if Ezra P. Standish had anythin' to do with it. And me – well, I just did what I could, carryin' blankets, washin' that sick man down to try and stop the fever, doin' whatever Nathan needed me to do. Most of the time I wasn't much use for anythin' else, 'cause right then prayin' wasn't what Chris needed – he needed us, his family.

But you?

You just draped your bony behind in that rickety ol' chair of Nate's, hauled out that goddamn harmonica, and began to play those long, sad notes through it, soundin' like the wind up in those high, lonely places you love so much.

And so it began, this vigil of yours.

A long, hard vigil, one of pain, and fever, and hurt, watchin' over a man that half the time didn't want to live, even when he was fit and well.

I stayed close, tryin' to look out for both of you, tryin' to make sure Nate didn't end up havin' two patients instead of one. And in the deep of the night, when Chris' fever took a hold, you'd turn to me with a look that took the breath right out of my chest.

It was a look of blind, pure faith, Vin.

A faith I never had, and me a man supposed to have a shortcut to God, if you believe some folks. I've spent my whole life questionin' every damn' thing, wonderin', doubtin' all I see that purports to be Faith. But in you, Vin Tanner … hell, I saw the true meanin' of the word.

Faith.

It was that faith that brought Chris Larabee back to us, after long, hard, strugglin' days, brought the Brotherhood back together, made us complete once more.

And all the while you said nary a word … you just watched, and waited, and sang your wordless, silent song that echoed from your very heart, a song that only Chris could hear.

It was you that brought him back, son, you that kept him safe and whole, and we were glad of it. Even Buck, a man who knew Chris' heart was broke and whose own big heart had broken alongside him all those years ago.

So just you keep watchin', boy. You and your quiet ways and slow smile. You just carry on makin' us One again.

You just carry on makin' us a Brotherhood once more, a family - because that's all we are, son, and all we'll ever be.

Family.

FINIS


End file.
